Somewhere Only We Know
by erf10722
Summary: Johnny is the gangs pet, everyones kid brother. But what do we even know about Johnny's past? As far as we know, he didn't even exist until the Curtis' met him. But he did exist. And he wasn't always the kicked puppy we know and love. Will his past come back to haunt him? (request. Takes place after Johnny is beaten by the Socs.)
1. Chapter 1

**This was a request. Well, sort of. The request was the after math of Johnny being attacked (recommended by DoingItForJohnny because he guessed correctly in "Aid to the Helpless.) I think I've told you I hate one-shots, so I'm not going to make this one. **

**This is not a part of my Outsiders Series, but it is another story about Johnny.**

**I don't own the Outsiders.**

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><p>The rings crashed into my skull, the sound reverberating in my ears after the blow had pulled back and the leader prepared for another.<p>

Bob, my old friend, my partner in crime, beating on me. Of course, he had to. The Gunners weren't just going to let me go hang out with some greasers that weren't even part of a gang.

As a kick landed in my ribs, I tried to distance myself from the present by reflecting on the past. I didn't really see what I could have done differently, how could I avoid my imminent death?

I guess it started the year I turned ten. That was a good time. For most kids, it was the year they turned to double digits, the year they were the "big kids" of the elementary school.

Not for me. That was the year I was initiated into my first gang. I never told anyone this, not even Dallas. The Gunners were a soc gang.

The truth is, Socs aren't all that bad. The Socs who jump greasers and make fun of poor kids, those aren't Socs. Those are Gunners.

And I was one of them.

You may be wondering how I could be a soc when I didn't have any money. Well, at that time, I did have money. Lots of it. I was the richest kid on the block, cool as can be.

Back then, I wore my hair short in its natural wavy curls. I even went to the private school "St. Timothy's," which was a boarding school, but I lived so close, I didn't have to board.

Ten was the year I first tried any sort of drugs, alcohol, and other shady things that I'm not too proud of. Only ten years old.

Initiation was painful, but I didn't care. This was what I had always wanted. They carved the symbol of the Gunners into my back, a circle with a vaguely gun shaped line pointing out the right side so that it looked like a 'G.'

My home life was good back then. Two doting parents who would let me get away with murder, and a baby on the way.

Then my dad went off to war. When this happened, I got angry. Angry at my mom, at the baby in her stomach, at life, and especially at greasers.

Greasers don't really have gangs. The Shepard gang are kinda 'wannabe' greasers, poor little dirt bag who beat on innocent Socs who weren't even in the Gunner gang.

It made me laugh that the greasers didn't recognize the patterns, didn't target the people who targeted them. Of course, if they had targeted us, we would have hunted them down until they went extinct.

Eleven was the year I killed my first person. I never told anyone that either, because the Gunners would frown upon who I killed.

A woman, someone I'll tell you about later, why she's important. I was in New York, mostly because it was my turn to pick up the drugs, but also because the leader of the gang, Kirk, had taken a liking to me and wanted to show me the city.

The woman had a kid, a little boy, and I just...killed her. She didn't do anything. The kid was maybe my age, maybe a little older, and he ran.

Before I killed that women, I found out that my family had died. My father in war, my mother and unborn baby (who I later found out would have been my sister) by suicide. I needed someone to hurt as much as me, and thanks to me, that little boy did.

I can't tell you how bad I felt. Kirk died in a gang fight a week later, and Bob came to power, a tyrant if ever I saw one.

I was sent to live with my uncle and aunt, who I had never known about. Yeah, my "dad" beat me, but I was glad he did.

Truth is, I deserved every punch I got, and more. So I took the beatings, I did my work at school, I cowered in my house, and I prayed to god that Bob never got a chance to get me back.

Bob was jealous of me because Kirk always liked me best. There was a rumor that he wanted the gang to be passed down to me, but Bob took the responsibility instead.

I was lucky enough to hide from the gang without having to "resign." In gangs, they have initiation processes, where you either get beat up or burn a mark onto your skin of do something illegal. The resignation is when the entire gang just beats on you will weapons, fists whatever for twenty minutes.

Few people survive it. Actually, only one that I know of. That person in Dallas Winston. He has more scars than even I do. That's the real reason that I respect him, He stood up for his fears instead of hiding them behind closed doors.

Well, I guess they found me now. Maybe I was finally resigning from the gang that I had joined when I was just a kid. Then again, maybe I was resigning from life.

I heard distant shouting, but I think someone kicked my ears, and I couldn't hear too great. I heard a gun shot, and a stabbing pain in my upper leg, then I felt hands, softer than the Gunners on me.

"Johnny? Johnnycakes, are you alright?" Soda. No doubt. He was too compassionate for his own good, so of course he would be the one to comfort me.

"Shit! Johnny-" Either Steve or Dally. Both of them would be angry, but Dallywould most likely already be chasing the Gunners. Or, what he thought were just ordinary Socs.

I heard sobbing. Pony, obviously. I tried to speak. "Socs-"

"Don't try to talk Johnny." I grew angry, or at least resistant when Soda said this. For some reason, it was vital that I explain everything, now.

"Soda, listen-" I gurgled through the blood filling my mouth.

"Johnny, shh. Just don't try to talk."

"Soda, just shut up will you?" Yeah, I was in pain, and I guess that was an excuse, but not really. I shouldn't have been so rude to Soda. I immediately felt guilty. I moved to get up, but winced.

Soda was taken aback by my words (although no one else heard), but he recovered quickly in light of my dire situation. "Johnny, you just need some help-"

"No." It hurt worse than anything I had ever experienced, but I don't really have a normal sense of pain. So I guess for a normal person, this pain would be intolerable. I began to crawl away, growling at how weak I felt.

I acted weak around the gang, but I didn't want to be weak right now. i crawled right into Dally's legs, and I looked up at him like a hurt puppy.

"Johnny, tell me who did this to you!" He screamed, bending down to my level.

"Dally, it was...never mind, can I just tell you later? Please, just-" And I guess I passed out then.

The next thing I felt was the Curtis' couch, and all I heard were the whisperings, "What the hell is wrong with Johnny?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the reviews! **

**Calamanator (sorry for misspelled-ness)- I'm glad you like it and are apparently freaking out about it. Yes, you are correct with your guess. I'm taking requests from people who guess correctly, so please PM me!**

**Enjoy. I don't own anything.**

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><p>The whisperings continued, and I pretended to still be knocked out.<p>

"He was acting all-"

"Yeah, I know what you mean Steve." I heard a sniffle and my heart broke a little. I knew it was Ponyboy, because a second later, Soda's soothing voice said "It's ok Pony."

"Honestly, I've never respected the kid more." My heart swelled. Dally's voice was abundant with pride. "He was so brave and tuff..." No one objected.

"But that's not usual for Johnny." I decided to alert them to my presence.

"Thanks Darry." I mumbled. Six people immediately crowded around me, hands butterflying over my injuries, concerned voices asking questions.

"I don't mean that you aren't brave, you just are..."

"Really innocent and small?" I asked. I had an urge to tell them the truth, to prove that I wasn't as vulnerable as they thought I was.

"Well...yes."

"I taught you well, huh kid?" Two-Bit grinned.

"Oh yeah Two-Bit, you taught me everything I know about being innocent and small." Two-Bit chucked, but everyone else just exchanged worried glances.

I distinctly heard Steve whisper to Soda "Do you think it addled his brains?" I had to be careful. They were getting suspicious.

I moved to get up, and the gang gasped. "Johnny! Stay down! It's going to kill to stand up." I raised my eyebrows at Darry.

"Do you want me to go to the bathroom on your couch?"

"We can help you." I let out a bark of laugher, and easily swung myself off of the couch.

"I'll be fine. If you hear a thud in the bathroom, you can look in, but I don't think it will come to that."

I was really pushing the line here. I wasn't acting like the carefully concocted persona that I had created after leaving the Gunners, changing my name and identity.

I should have just let them take care of me, but being this vulnerable was bringing back old habits.

I splashed some water on my face and inspected my injuries. All of the big stuff, like the bullet wound and a couple of knife slashes, were bandaged, but my face still looked like it had been through a blender.

I cursed Bob quietly. I took a deep breath, and began to have one of those annoying conversations with that voice in my head.

_Ok. You need to go back out there, and put back on your mask. Kicked puppy, kicked puppy, kicked-_

"Johnny." there was a thud on the door.

"Yes?" My voice still sounded a little irritable.

"We need to take you to the hospital. We were waiting for a cab, so please get int he car."

"No thanks Soda."

"Let me rephrase that. Get in the car _now_."

"Let me rephrase _that._" _Control the sassiness _I reprimanded myself, but I basically had no control over what I said. Ok, I had a little bit, but I wanted to say it. "I'm not getting in the car Soda, I don't need the hospital, and please go tell the cab 'thanks, but no thanks.'"

There was a moment of a very heavy silence. "Um...Johnny, did...you get hit in the head?"

I sighed, drying my face, and came out of the bathroom. "No, I'm fine. That's the point. I don't need the hospital."

"You look like Shit." Dally said bluntly.

"When don't I look like shit?" I muttered, and Steve laughed, amazed at my new attitude. I really had to tone it down.

I walked to the yellow cab, and Soda followed me in relief. "Thanks, here's 20 dollars for your trouble, but I don't need a ride." I intoned to the cab driver. He nodded, and took the money, spraying Soda in dust as he left.

I went back inside and sat delicately on the couch, trying to imitate the character I had been playing for almost...maybe four or five years.

Everyone was staring at me, making me uncomfortable. I sighed, and jumped to my feet. Dally looked impressed at how I was "living through the pain" as he would call it.

"I'm gonna go home." I listened to the whole spiel of 'you are home Johnny' patiently, then began to walk out to door anyway.

"Johnny, you're just gonna get beat up." Dally finally said honestly. Then I said something really stupid.

"I think I can take him." There was deadly silence, then a hand landed on my shoulder.

"You couldn't take those Socs. Those were kids just having fun with no motive. This is a grown man whose goal in life is to make your life miserable and will do whatever it takes to make you hurt. You _can't _take him."

"I couldn't take those Socs because they had a gun. I'm sorry, I haven't quite mastered the technique of catching a bullet in my teeth. I'll work on that. _At home._" I pushed past him in an uncharacteristically forceful way.

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><p>Sure enough, when I arrived home, my uncle was drunk, and ready to fight. That's ok, I was <em>sober <em>and ready to fight.

And I had been in a hundred times more fights than this mad ever had and won two hundred times more of them.

He threw a punch, but I wasn't in the mood to get beat up, so I kicked him in the jaw gently, hoping I didn't kill him.

Unfortunately, I did kick him hard enough to knock him out. Damn. I could have done with a nice fight. Haven't been in a _fair _one in forever.

I stomped up to my room, not really caring if I woke my mother from her beauty sleep. (no amount of sleep could fix _her appearance_.)

I slumped onto my bed, suddenly tired as hell. I heard a clunk on my window and looked down to see a figure throwing stones at my window.

If this were a romance, it would be someone really attractive, and I would jump into their arms (no, that does not sound manly...or safe) but it was just Bob Sheldon.

Ugh. I jumped, cat-like from my roof to the ground, landing on one of my bruises, but barely registering the pain.

"Hello Bob. What are you doing here?" My voice was nonchalant, but my heart was dancing a frantic tattoo in my chest. Not that I was scared of Bob. Not at all. I was more scared of what _I _could do to _him. _Of what I wanted to do to him.

_supress. Don't feel these things. Don't cave to temptation._

"I just want to talk to you." He leered.

I had never wanted to kill someone more.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own the Outsiders. Sorry for the delay.**

**Thanks for the reviews.**

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><p>"Ok, what Bob? If you're looking for a shoulder to cry on, you might find one in hell. I don't know, how about you try?"<p>

"Thanks for the advise kid. I heard you know a lot about hell." Bob might be an ignorant little prick, but he certainly was fun to make fun of and provoke.

"So, let's hear it, but I want to say that the answer is no."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

"Were you going to ask me to marry you?"

"No."

"Told you the answer was no." Bob seethed for a second, then grinned lightly.

"Real clever."

"I always was the brains of the gang." Bob curled his lip in annoyance. He hated when I said this because he knew that it was true.

"And I always was the one that could beat you to a pulp. Speaking of which, I suggest you stop hanging out with those boys you call friends. They might...get hurt somehow."

"I'm not about to let a big brute like you hurt them."

"How touching. And who said it was me? Fate has even a harder punch than me."

I laughed, and he did indeed punch me in the face, tuning away in the same moment, hands in his pockets, reminding me of Dally.

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><p>I stood still for a second, then pulled myself deftly onto the roof and sat stock still on the incline for a minute, letting the blood and the slight pain work its way out of my body.<p>

"Woah." I smiled at the voice I recognized as Pony. "Cool trick. Getting onto the roof like that."

I was indeed incredibly strong and fast for my age and size. "Thanks man. What brings you here?"

"Checking on you. Making sure you're ok." I offered him a hand, and pulled him up onto the roof. Maybe a little too forcefully (although I was _trying _to be gentle) because he stumbled on landing, grinning none the less.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What makes you think I'm not?"

"Your being weird."

"Thanks." I murmured sarcastically.

"No, seriously, not yourself. I don't like it...maybe you're spending too much time with Dal."

"We haven't even spoken in a few weeks."

"Well...i don't know what the issue is. Are you angry at me?"

_I suggest you stop hanging out with those boys you call friends. Someone might get hurt. _A vague approximation of what Bob had told me only a few minutes ago. I had to be selfless and do what was right.

"Pony, I don't think we should be friends anymore." I saw surprised tears rise in his eyes. _Damn Johnny! Did you have to say it like that? _

"What did I do?" Pony sounded so resigned to the fact that I almost felt like bawling too.

"Nothing. You just...don't understand."

"I'm sorry if I've been wrapped up in my own problems to listen. I'm here now." Did he have to make this that hard?

"No, Pony, you could never understand. Listen, hanging out with me...is a little dangerous." _A lot dangerous. _

"No it's not. Don't be stupid."

"Ok, Pony, I have to take permanent vacation. I'm really sorry, but...ok, I can't explain, but I can't hand out with the gang anymore."

"Is it your dad?" _If only my uncle were my greatest problem._

"No, it's not that. I told you, I can't tell you, but please don't come looking for me."

"Where are you going?" He sounded so innocent, I almost felt tears come to me eyes. Going soft.

"Nowhere. I'll be around town." I stood and brushed off my jeans, retreating into the shadows of the house.

A heavy rock had replaced my heart which I left behind with Pony.

That may have been the gayest thing I've ever said.

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><p>Ponyboy Curtis walked home from school alone now. Although Johnny wasn't much for conversation, he occasionally scared off the socs, probably because of his scars.<p>

But now that he walked home alone, the same group of socs chased him every day. They were trailing him now, shiny blue mustang like a monster, jeers heard miles away from here.

He quickened his pace a little, and the blue mustang followed suit, matching him. He clumsily ducked into an alley.

_God, Johnny where are you?_ It was strange that in his time of need, he thought of Johnny instead of his brothers or even Dally, the toughest guy he knew.

But Johnny wasn't even his friend anymore he remembered with a little pang of sadness. Pony hadn't seen him in months. Exactly one month, three weeks, and four days.

No one had. Dally was in a panic, barely sleeping, barely eating. He looked like a zombie now, shadows under his eyes his gate shuffling menacing and slow.

The socs hopped out of the car and began to chase him. Dropping all pretense of coolness, Pony sprinted towards home. He still had half a mile to go, but was almost sure he could outrun the socs.

He was surprised when he felt a hand on his back. A soc spun him around and punched him. The pain was excruciating and Pony screamed, crying out to Johnny, Darry, Soda and anyone else that would listen.

"No use crying Johnny." _Johnny?_

"That ones name is Pony."

"They're all the same. One in the same with _him._"

"W-what?" Pony stuttered, blood pouring out of his mouth.

"Are you telling me he didn't tell you?" The head soc grinned. "Sneaky little bastard. Don't trust him little Pony. Some words or wisdom."

"Johnny is my friend. We-"

"Jonathan Alexander Cade Coleman has never had a friend, and probably never wanted one. Bet you didn't even know his full name. I'm the only kind of friend he has."

"You aint his friend."

"I'm no his friend. I'm the closest thing he has to one- his arch enemy."

"Johnny doesn't have enemies."

"Suit yourself. Now, boys, please continue to beat him up."

Fists rained on him, and he screamed so loudly he thought all of Tulsa would hear. He remember the click and swish of a blade and then a ripping, cutting sensation in his arms.

The last thing he remembered was screaming for Darry and Soda to help him, this time excluding Johnny.

Johnny was not his friend if he was friends with this monster.

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><p>I sat back, satisfied with my work. I still had connections to the gunners, guys who would get me whatever I wanted in exchange for some pills or drugs or anything. Useless for them, great for me.<p>

I was taking down my own gang the only way I knew how: through trickery, double dealing, violence, lies, pain, and sacrifice.

The only thing that was different about this time was that my life wasn't the only one on the line.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for reviewin!**

**Enjoy!**

**I don't own.**

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><p>Fridays were always my favorite day of the week. Even though I don't really go to school anyway, on fridays school would be especially unappetizing, so the gang would just kind of laze around, watching tv and wrestling.<p>

Unfortunately, life had taken a left turn for me. I hadn't seen or heard from the gang in weeks. My days consisted of plotting, snooping, and making useful resources.

I had no time for fridays, and I was really just anxious for Sunday, when my life would really begin.

That day I was taking a break of sorts, going out for a late lunch that was almost closer to supper. I had so far avoided all greaser hangouts and spent my time in neutral territory.

I strolled along a familiar route to my favorite fast food place, feeling pleased with the days work for the first time in forever.

I spotted Ponyboy walking down the opposite side of the street towards me, zoned out as usual.

I ducked into an alley so that he wouldn't spot me. I had decided that the only way Bob and the Gunners would leave my friends alone would be if I left them alone. I was in a dangerous situation, and I just had to suck it up and live without my friends. They would forget me soon enough. And if they did remember me, they would remember how I told Pony that we weren't friends and then ignored them. Great.

A car full of Gunner wannabes strode beside Pony, jeering at him. The chase ensued, and Pony ended up with a gang of Socs hurling their fists at him.

I racked my brains for something to do. I decided to wait until they knocked him unconcious. The kid would live, but I couldn't have him recognize me. He _would _be hurt if Bob heard we were hanging out together again. I also had to make sure that the Socs wouldn't go squealing to Bob that I did still care about Pony.

One last blow to the head. I counted to three slowly, then yelled over to the Socs, using my best innocent voice, "Tuff car! Is that a BMW!?" They paused in beating the stuffing out of Pony, and turned towards me.

"Yeah, now shove off kid." I advanced towards them, fingering my switch blade.

"You know what they say about people who drive BMWs?" without waiting for a guess, I answered. "They say that they are overcompensating for the size of er- their 'manliness'"

They looked shocked. No one, much less a scrawny 16 (who looked more like 11) year old kid had _ever _spoken to them like that. It made them forget Pony.

"Sorry, overcompensate means-"

"We know what it means." The head Soc spoke up.

"Well, you are smarter then most of your kind I've met."

"My kind? You mean members of the arian race, proud supporters of-"

"Proud supporters of the efforts to enslave anyone beneath them, fascists, sexists, Socially conceded little wimps? Also, this isn't the 1940s anymore boys. The "arian" race is not exactly "PC" anymore."

"You little grease ball! You dare-"

"Speaking of grease balls, thats all that will be left of you if you don't leave _now._" I waited for a second, then took half a step towards them. I was sort of in the mood for a fight, but they ran. cowards.

Pony groaned, and I was scared that he might wake up. He didn't though. I walked to the nearest payphone.

I called the Curtis house number, and waited for someone to pick up. Unfortunately, it was Dally. He wouldn't be as easy to fool as some of the others.

"Curtis help, how may we house you?" I wasn't sure if he was making a joke or just drunk. Probably the latter.

"Hi, uh a Mr. Ponyboy Curtis is bleeding on Asylum off of the Ribbon near the movie theatre. Would you like to come get him?" There was a pause.

"Who is this?" So he wasn't so drunk that he didn't recognize my voice.

"No one."

"No one?"

"Uh, no, Nowan Imprectious is my name." I was mentally berating myself for being so stupid as to not come up with a code name. I was rusty at the art of deception after the years of living with people that I absolutly trusted.

"Well, Nowan, thank-you for helping my young friend Ponyboy. Now if you don't mind, could you please explain where the movie theatre is again?"

I began to explain impatiently again.

"Thank-you. Now, about his attackers-" Dally began to ramble, but he got angry at me when I threatened to hang up. I almost just put down the phone anyway, but I respected Dally too much.

Finally he said "Well, it sure was nice to meet you Nowan."

"Bye D- sir." Suddenly I felt a hand clasp around my arm. I instinctivly elbowed backwards. There was a soft grunt, and I turned to see Soda clutching his stomach.

Everything made sense now. Dally, tricky little bastard that he was, must've been stalling on the phone, waiting for the others to arrive and kidnap me.

"Geez Johnny! Just trying to take you home."

"Sorry Soda." I began to walk away cooly.

"Wait! Johnny, come back! We're taking you to our house."

"No."

"We just want to know why you're angry with Pony and the rest of us."

"I'm not angry!" My tone sounded pretty angry, but I really wasn't upset with them. How could I be? They were the best friends I could ask for.

"We will take you hostage if you don't come."

"I'd like to see you try." Darry came up behind me, and in one swift movement, I had him writing with discomfort as I held him in a headlock.

Two-Bit tried to free Him, and I kept them both pinned against the wall. It must have looked comical, a kid barely taller than five feet holding two muscular men with only his hand. But I wasn't laughing.

Steve and Soda joined, and try as I might, I couldn't fight them all off. They stuffed me like a stack of potatoes in the back seat with Pony.

I gently pushed Pony's hair back, resigned to the fact that I had to lie to the gang and say that I hated them. I almost felt tears spill, but I contained them. Poor Pony. I had never wanted this to happen to him. I absentmindedly kepts stroking his hair as though he were a cat.

He was still unconscious, but he rubbed his head a little into my hand. I smiled, concentrating on him rather then the rest of the bruised and batter gang.

I didn't resist going into the Curtis' house, but I still had an armed guard of Soda and Steve.

"Dally, what the hell? Was that necessary?" Dally didn't look drunk, and he grinned when he saw me.

"Hello Nowan. Is that even a name?"

"Is Dally even a name?" I spat.

"Good point kid." I refused to sit in the comfortable crevices of the couch, and slouched instead against a wall, playing wiht my hands.

Soda padded back down the stairs after making sure that Pony was ok. "So, Johnny," Darry began "Why does Pony suddenly think that you and him aren't friends anymore."

"Because I told him so."

"Johnny! Do you know how much that hurt him?" Soda reprimanded, sounding more saddend than angry.

I didn't answer. "So, why haven't I seen you around? I mean, even if you hate Pony, you could still hand out with us."

"I don't hate Pony."

"Could've fooled me." I glared Daggers at Dally.

"I can't hang out with any of you anymore."

"Who told you that."

"The voices in my head." I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Johnny you've been different since you got jumped. What did those Socs do to you?"

"Those weren't 'Socs.' Listen guys, the less you know the better, but I wont be around here too much. I just need to do one thing before I leave Tulsa."

"What's that? We can help you-"

"No, you can't. I won't let you and I don't want you to."

"Just tell us what we did to make you hate us." I stood up straight and began pacing. It was time for some heart breaking lies.

"I don't want to see you guys anymore. Just-leave me alone."

"So, you really do hate us?" Soda asked quietly sounding on the verge of tears.

"Yes." The word hurt more than a bullet.

I made to leave, half hoping that someone would call me back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys, I forgot where I was going with this story so sorry if it sucks.**

**I don't own the Outsiders.**

I called the Gunners the only way I knew how-by taking one of them hostage. Granted, she wasn't so much a hostage as an annoying pacifist who just happened to be close 'friends' with Bob. Basically they were having sex, but Bob had taken a liking to her "I just want everyone to be friends" attitude.

Her name was Cherry. Stupid name in my opinion-This town was full of them. We waited on the playground. Of course I had called Bob telling him at what time he should meet me and what to bring (I told him weapons and back-up, but no guns or knives longer than the standard Swiss Army rigging knife.)

He probably thought that I had back-up as well, but I was utterly alone. I had spent all day preparing myself for this. By preparing I mean eating a really impressive amount of delicious food and watching bad tv shows all day, putting myself in an almost vegetative content state so I could forget about what I was going to do.

I had purposefully arrived ten minutes early so I could ensure I was there before Bob. Cherry talked my ear off. She had only agreed to this because I told her it was the first step to having complete peace in Tulsa. I had also promised that there would be no blood shed. What a joke.

Bob arrived too soon for my liking with what looked like then entire gang behind him-about 20 of the richest, meanest, and strongest Socs in Tulsa.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Johnnycakes Curtis." Bob imitated the nickname my friends called me. I almost laughed at how stupid he sounded. "I assume your friends will be here soon? Shall we have a cup of tea while we wait?"

"Nope." I was too tired to banter.

His eyes widened sarcastically. "What is this? Johnnycakes doesn't have a plan to take care of the big bad Socs?"

"Not big in all respects." Ok, I take back what I said about the banter. I looked down pointedly to his crotch and he snarled. "But Cherry has told me that you are _truly awful._"

Bob seemed to notice Cherry for the first time. He snarled and wrenched her from the swings, bringing her over to the Socs. I winced. I had never wanted Cherry to get hurt, no matter how annoying she was.

"So, how is this fight going to go down?" Bob asked, clenching his fist.

"Who said this was a fight?"

"You stole my girlfriend and brought us here telling us to bring weapons."

"Its not stealing if she enjoys it." I walked a little closer to Bob. "Isn't that how you justify what you do to those other girls?" Bob was really a disgusting creature. Kirk was a bad kid-Hell, we all were-but Bob was a real sick-o. Kirk always said to never hurt a woman. A little sexist? Maybe, but it protected the women at least. But Bob was different-He would hurt anyone, do anything to get what he wanted.

"Just tell me why we're here." Bob said, not denying my accusations, earning him a shocked and angry look from Cherry. She pulled her arm from his grasp and ran towards the Soc's side of town.

"Boys, today you are here to beat the shit out of me once and for all."

"Why would you do that?"

"Well you seem rather fixated on the idea of beating me up, so I'll make you a deal. I want to resign. I want to officially resign and not be associated with this gang." There were gasps and mutters, some of them uneasy. I wondered how many of them had killed someone before.

"20 minutes?" Bob asked flatly, with a sadistic smile curling his lips.

"20 minutes, but 25 if you stay away from my gang."

"Close, but no cigar."

"27?" I knew I was pushing it. 20 minutes was hard enough to survive. 25...only 10 percent of the strongest gang members could survive that. 27 I might as well write my will now. Not that I had anything to leave.

Bob considered. He then nodded. "27, and if you survive we wont beat up your gang. as long as you keep your head down and don't mess with us."

"Deal." I held out my hand to shake. He squeezed my hand so hard I heard something break, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me wince.

"Deal."

"Guns are not allowed." I reminded him. He looked torn for a second, then kicked his concealed gun away. The other Gunners followed his example.

"And if you try to fight us, we will put a bullet in your skull."

"Someone keep track of time."

"Ron can do it." A Gunner volunteered. a shrimpy boy, probably about ten, looked all too relieved to not have to join in the beating.

I smiled at him. "Thank-you so much Ron." He reminded me of myself. Except I was never that scared of a fight.

"Ready?" Bob asked with a smirk.

"I've been ready since you killed Kirk." I growled. I wanted the Gunners to know. I could take down Bob without fists...or without my own.

The first blow was from Bob. He kicked my in the ribs, surely layering another bruise on my skin.

I began to recede into my mind. Kirk had trained me to ignore pain. I was his pride and joy-I could ignore pain so well I didn't feel anything until it was over.

I counted. 1,2,3,4...Until I got to sixty then started over again. I began to time my approximated seconds with each blow, one blow per second. Around 3 minutes of being beaten, I fell to the ground and the kids crowded around me like vultures.

Some of the kicks were more enthusiastic than others. I could always tell when Bob was wailing on me as they were the hardest, but some of my old friends were probably only punching me because if they didn't, they would be victims themselves.

I tried not to give the Gunners the satisfaction of hearing me scream or cry, although involuntary groans escaped me.

At the ten minute mark, I felt the first knife penetrate my skin. The enthusiasm and excitement had worn off by now, and some of the Gunners had backed up. I could hardly see, as both of my eyes had been punch, kicked, and scratched until they were swollen to the size of baseballs.

The knife cut about an inch deep right under my leg. I screamed at the new kind of pain. I had always been worse at hiding my pain away when the pain was as sharp as a knife.

It felt as if 20 knives were all slashing at me. Actually, it didn't just feel that way, that was actually happening.

Oh my god this was actually happening.

And suddenly every pain was searing in a unbearable way. the pain was like a symphony- the dull ache of bruises, the sharpness of the knives, the immobility of a broken bone. I saw red, and my heart beat rose.

_Don't attack them, don't attack them. _ I reminded myself frantically. I had been under attack for 19 minutes, give or take. I was almost there. Only 8 more minutes to go and I couldn't go and ruin my chances by fighting back.

I desperately tried to recollect my thoughts. Kirk alway said that for some people, pain was an anchor but they became too fixated on that anchor and wouldn't be able to take it anymore. He said pain was the ocean, surrounding your raft, dragging you further out to sea, and you needed to find a different anchor other than pain.

That metaphor had never really made sense to me. But now it did. If it doesn't make sense to you, go find 20 guys to beat you up and see.

I searched desperately for an anchor. I thought of my parents, Kirk, Pony, Anything that would make me feel human.

A knife stabbed straight down into my stomach, and I think I let out a sob. A face flashed in my brain. The little boys face. The little boy whose mother I had killed. My gang, who I had yelled at and left, Kirk who I had let die.

I'm such a fuck up. I thought. I considered letting go of the anchor that I was trying to ground and just float out to sea. I had done so much bad in my life, maybe I deserved this.

Maybe I should die so I don't hurt anyone else. Who had I ever become close to that I hadn't hurt?

Suddenly everything was numb. I had probably passed out, at least partially. The darkness was a relief.

_No! You're just gonna give up, like your father before you? _My fourth grade teacher had told me that when I stopped going to school.

I had lived a good life. I could make my peace, finally. Maybe I would even go to heaven. My mother always said we would see Dad there again.

_Shut the fuck up, Johnny. You aren't dying. _My uncle told me that when I first came to live with them and he had beaten me for the first time.

_C'mon Johnny. I'll fix you up. _I was surprised at his new voice. It wasn't negative. The voice was _helping _me.

_"Why would you help me?"_ My own voice wondered, and in my mind's eye I saw the scene. I had 'run away' from my uncles house. I had tripped, broken my wrist. And then the stranger had asked me my name and told me he would help me.

_"Well...I don't know. Don't go telling anyone that I'm getting soft." _The teen chuckled and helped me up. _"I'm Dally by the way. You're safe now."_

The scene replayed in my head over and over.

I hardly noticed that the blows had stopped. I didn't hear the voices as they walked away.

_"You're safe now." _The memory of Dally said.


	6. Chapter 6

**hi.**

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><p>"These teams are completely unfair." I woke to a kid's voice. I was happy that I could still hear.<p>

"Shut up, Soda." Soda. Didn't I know someone named Soda? Kind of a dumb name to be honest. I didn't even try calling out. A cut by my throat was still leaving blood and my mouth was a bloody mess-There was no way I could shout to them.

"I mean, Darry, Steve, and Dally against Me and Two-Bit? The three good people against the 2 ok-ish people?"

"Yes, now stop complaining." More voices laughed and talked.

"Hey, guys, what's that?"

"Looks like a kid."

"Oh my goodness. Who would do that?"

"We should call the police."

"And an ambulence."

"Don't be dumb Soda. That kid is dead. We aren't reporting an injured person, we're reporting a murder."

The voices grew closer until they were looming right over me.

"We should turn him over, see who he is." Soda suggested softly.

Rough hands flipped me over, digging into the deep wounds on my sides. If I had had the energy to scream I would have.

"Oh my god."

"What?" I recognized that voice as Dally. I stirred at the sound of it. I did owe my life to him (although who knew how much longer I would live.)

"Dally don't come over here!" The voice warned, but apparently Dally didn't listen because a second later I heard a cry of anguish.

"Johnny!" Dally pulled me over to him, scraping the wounds on my back against the asphalt of the playground. I let out a breath, the only indication I could give him that I was alive and in pain. "Johnny?" This time it was a question. "Call an ambulance!"

"Dally..." I breathed.

"Johnny, what happened? Who did this? I'm going to kill them."

"No. don't. I'm out."

"What? What do you mean Johnny? Johnny? Stay with me, c'mon."

"Like you. I'm out." Realization dawned on him and I heard him say "Oh" softly.

He held me until the ambulance arrived, as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

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><p>I wont bore you with all of the hospital visit. To be honest, I don't remember any of it and only know what I've been told by my friends afterwards.<p>

I was in a medically induced coma for a week or two, and apparently I bounced back amazingly fast.

The first thing I remember when I woke up was the small pile of gifts from the gang and maybe a couple people from school who took pity on me.

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><p>Two days after I woke up, I was allowed to leave. No one had visited me, which I was simultaneously grateful for and also a little resentful of.<p>

Grateful because I was dreading having to explain my entire life story and all the drama that would surely ensue. Resentful because I was selfish and wanted people to care about me. No matter what the cost was for them.

I didn't however, tell Darry or anyone that I was getting out of the hospital. Yes, it would be a pain and very embarrassing to take a bus on my wheelchair (not to mention painful-Most of the doctors thought I was leaving too early, but I didn't really have enough money to continue treatment.)

I left the hospital that day at around four in the afternoon. I reflected that Pony would be just out of track. If it was still in season. I had been out of his life for a significant amount of time.

My list of injuries probably took up about 7 pages in the doctors charts. I would probably never look the same, not that I really cared how I looked. Somehow, I didn't think the picket fence life with a beautiful wife and kids was for me anyhow. It would probably hurt me to move for the rest of my life. This was a kind of pain that I couldn't ignore, or at least the doctors had told me not to, as if they had known about my ability to block out pain and emotions and to let them through the dam when I pleased.

I earned pitying stares as I boarded the bus (reluctantly accepting help from a nice, but chatty middle aged woman who insisted on talking to me all the way to my stop.)

I hoped that I wouldn't get jumped. I didn't know if anyone except Gunners would stoop _that _low, and they had sworn to keep their distance, but some greasers could be real jerks.

I wheeled slowly, gritting my teeth at how vulnerable I felt. I might as well get used to a life time of handicap. I was determined to be able to walk again, no matter what it took, although the doctors doubted that.

I caught sight of a greaser running towards me. I wished I could hide in an alley or run away from them or turn invisible. I wasn't scared of them jumping me-or at least not this particular greaser. His blonde hair and good looks could be spotted even from this distance. I busied myself with trying to look as dignified as possible in my squeaky old chair.

"Hello?" Soda asked hesitantly. I realized that he probably didn't even know who I was. Granted, I was probably the only person in Tulsa (let alone just this side of town) with injuries this fresh and bad that wasn't in a hospital. But Soda had always been a little dumb.

I focused on making my voice cool as possible. "Hey, Soda. How are you?"

He was silent for almost a minute, opening and closing his mouth. "Johnny? Why are you...what are...how are you out of the hospital?"

So they knew I was in the hospital and just didn't visit me. I couldn't blame them. I wouldn't visit me, especially since Dally had probably told the rest of them what I had let slip and they were all probably scared of me now.

"I got out early on good behavior." I imitated Dally, and grinned at Soda. Wow, he looked really messed up.

"Lets get you to my house." I shrugged and began wheeling alongside him towards the Curtis' house. I knew I was going to have to face it-why avoid the inevitable? "Do you want me to..."

Ugh. The worst thing about being handicapped besides not being able to move without excruciating pain was the _pity. _"Soda, I am literally beating you to your house with no legs. C'mon lets go."

"Right."

We walked (he walked, I wheeled) until we were stood (or sat) in front of the Curtis' house.

"Uh...Johnny, you said with no legs...you don't have...they didn't take...did they?"

"You should work on forming coherent sentences." I grinned at him (although there were probably too many bandages and scars on my face to tell. "No, I still have my legs. For now. Who know what will happen really." I shrugged.

Soda nodded and ran up the front steps. I cursed him for a second, before I realized that I was the one who hadn't wanted help. Well, now I was screwed. I actually had to figure things out myself.

I wheeled over to Darry's truck and pulled out a piece of ply wood that looked long and wide enough for my chair. I would never be able to make it up a ramp over the front four stairs, so I went around back, awkwardly dragging the piece of wood behind me.

I felt completely exhausted by the time I reached the back. I threw down the plywood, picking quickness over efficiency. I wheeled myself over it, breaking it immediately, but managing to get in the door.

I hadn't noticed the gang gathered in the backyard, watching me with a mixture of awe and sadness as I made my ramp.


	7. Chapter 7

**Yeah, so I kind of neglected to say that I was back before because I didn't want to jinx anything or whatever, but I am back. I have hard classes and such now so I will probably not update as frequently, but I will when I can. Comments, favorites, follows, are welcome and encouraged.**

**Thanks,**

**Still don't own the Outsiders.**

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><p>"Hello?" I called into the house. I had no idea where everyone was. I had just seen Soda, not even 15 minutes ago. Maybe he had gone to gather the others. I felt self conscious in the chair, so I went over to the couch and used my hands to shimmy my weight from the chair to the couch.<p>

Unfortunately, the chair caught on the dumb coffee table, and I toppled from it, landing on the ground with a painful thud.

"Shit!" I yelled out in pain.

"You ok Johnny?" Pony stood above me, doe eyes wide.

"Yeah, that was completely intentional." I wanted to stand up and grin as if it were just a mistake, but I was too hurt and tired to move from my position, even if it was a painful one.

"Do you need help?" Darry asked softly squatting down to my level.

"Do I _look _like I need help?" I growled at them. There was silence and Two-Bit muttered "Well..."

"I'm fine." I snapped, angry at my less than graceful reunion with the gang.

I felt a hand grab me around the waist and I was airborne for two seconds until I was placed on the cushy couch. "Let me down!" I yelled at my captor/savior. "I swear to god I'm gonna kill you.." I threatened.

"Oh yeah? How would you do that?" Dally asked, uprighting the coffee table.

I held up one of my hands with difficulty. "I could bludgeon you to death with a cast." Dally laughed and sat down next to me on the couch.

I lay my head back and took a minute to breath heavily, utterly exhausted. "Hi." I finally said to the group at large.

There was a chorus of nervous 'hey Johnny's back.

"So..." Steve broke the silence, clapping like a kindergarten teacher.

"So, what's the story Johnny?" Two-Bit finished Steve's unasked question.

I shrugged, then winced as my shoulder felt like it was being dislocated all over again. "Some old friends beat me up."

"Nice friends." Dally said, glaring at my casts as though they had done him a personal wrong.

"They are, or were. Most of them are good people."

"If they're good people, why would they do that?" Pony asked angrily, but still with his signature touch of sensitivity and innocence.

"Because they had no choice." They waited for my explanation and I sighed. I gave Dally a pleading look-Maybe he could explain it for me, but he just crossed his arms and seemed to say 'you got yourself into this mess.' I began to speak monotonously.

"When I was ten I joined a gang. A gang of Socs, because I was rich. My dad died, my mom and sister died, I went to live in New York with the gang, We had some good times, we had some bad times, the old leader died, new leader was instated, I ran away back to Tulsa, gang was not kind to me because the new gang leader didn't like me, I wanted out of the gang, so I did."

It was an explanation worthy of a five year old and left my friends looking even more confused then before.

"You were in a gang of _socs?_" Steve asked, looking a little repulsed.

"Yep. I was a Soc. Worst kind also. I beat up greasers, some of them pretty young. Part of the initiation process into the gang was beating on greasers, although that was by far the easiest part. No offense, but most of you guys couldn't take even the weakest of the Gunners."

I spared a glance for Dally. He could probably take them. Maybe, if he hadn't grown too sloppy over years of drunken fights that he didn't try too hard in, he could take one of them.

No one spoke. Most of them were staring at me in awe or detest, and a couple were looking anywhere but my eyes. "This is the time to ask questions. I know you guys have some."

"Why are you so beat up?" Pony asked quietly. leave it to him to care about my well being after all the atrocities I had admitted to.

"The resignation process." I said flatly. "Different for every gang, but a popular one is to beat the living shit out of the person for a specified amount of time. For the Gunners,the standard is 20 minutes, but I had to do 28."

"Impossible." Dally said immediately. "I did 15 and spent a year in a coma. I faked my own death and moved halfway across the country. No one can do 28."

"Well I guess I proved you wrong then." I sassed.

"Did they use knives."

"No, they just 6 inch long fingernails." I said sarcastically.

"How many people?"

"I don't know. A score, maybe more."

"Twenty guys beating on you with knives for 28 minutes and you're telling me you're alive."

"I never told you I was alive, you just deduced that by yourself."

"Why 28 minutes?" Darry asked. "I mean, if 20 is the standard."

"Because..." I chose my words carefully "...because they wanted to hurt me for longer."

Darry nodded with a saddened look in his eyes. It was partially true, I was only supposed to be beat for 27 minutes and Bob went a minute over.

"Lies." Dally accused. "Gangs aren't the nicest or most honorable of people, but they will keep a bond to the gang sacred, and break it off right."

"Fine. They threatened you guys so I offered them more time to stay away from you." There was dead silence. "Look, it's not that big of a deal, Either I ended up dead, or I ended up a little more beat, no harm in either option."

"Will you be able to walk again?" Soda asked softly.

"Uh...I didn't ask."

"You didn't _ask_?"

"I wouldn't believe them if they said I could and I wouldn't believe them if they said I couldn't, so what was the point."

"So, what you're saying is because of us, you might not be able to walk again?"

"No, I'm saying because I became friends with you guys, you might be in danger and you would all be better off if I had died." I wish I could put my head in my hands and not look at any of them, but wearing a full body cast inhibits even those simplest actions.

"Don't talk like that..." Steve said awkwardly, probably still sore that I had been a soc.

"Please. At least Dally had the common sense to run as far away from his gang as he could before he found new friends."

"You don't think they'll keep their word?" Darry asked, always the rational one.

"I don't know, I've at least bought you some time and I will continue to buy you guys time until I die."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey! Please review, I really liked reading them and please tell me what I should do next or what you guys want to happen because I'm kind of open for suggestions with this story.**

**I don't own the Outsiders**

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><p>The gang mostly avoided me for the next few days. I wasn't surprised really-I kind of deserved it. The most infuriating part of it was that I had to protect them from afar. Not that I could do much anyway. I had asked Dally to keep an eye out, and I had told Darry to lock the door at night.<p>

But I was still in the wheelchair with a full body cast. I didn't know if Bob knew I was alive or not. I partially wanted him to, to prove it would take more than that to beat me, but I knew that he would be furious and probably act out against the gang.

The Curtis brothers had wanted me to stay with them while I healed up, but I had refused, instead taking up permanent refuge in the lot. It wasn't cold (thank goodness; I didn't need to add hyperthermia to my long list of injuries.)

I figured they could use some time away from me, to decide objectively if they wanted to be my friend or not. About a week after I told them, Pony came to visit me.

Most days I just sat still on the wheelchair, feeling useless, and that day was no exception. I suppose Pony must've known that I would be here. He didn't look like he had been searching for me.

"Hey Johnny." He said, lighting up a cigarette. I wished I could smoke. I wish I wasn't so god damn fragile that I could at least smoke.

"Hey Pony." He sat beside me wheel chair, and it was uncomfortable to be sitting so much higher than him.

"Nice day." He commented. Some people might see this as small talk, but that's the way Pony's and my friendship worked. He really did just like to comment on the weather and be quiet most of the time.

"Yeah." I agreed, and he huffed on his cigarette, both of us completely content with silence. Or at least I was content with silence.

"How come you haven't been around?" Pony asked, and I knew that this was one of the reasons why he had come-To confront me.

"I figured you guys could use some time away."

"I dig." We were silent again as he smoked, then he burst. "Actually, you know what? I don't dig. What the hell? I was worried! For christ sake, you're in a full body cast and you have a bunch of murderin' hoodlums after ya."

"But I don't need any of you guys to have murdering hoodlums after you and end up in a full body cast...or worse."

"Stop being so self sacrificing." I snorted. If I was self sacrificing I would have never even talked to the gang in the first place. I would have saved Kurt somehow, I would have stayed in New York and joined a gang there.

"I mean it." Pony warned. "It ain't healthy to be so anti-social."

"Cigarettes aren't healthy, drinking isn't healthy, being beat to death is not healthy. Being anti-social is the only way to be healthy."

"What about you? It's not healthy to be alone."

"You shouldn't care about my health. Go home." Pony stubbed his cigarette out and folded his arms, obviously not intent on moving. He was completely still, a determined set to his eyes for about ten minutes before I sighed.

"Fine." I conceded. "If you want me to, I will come over to your house tonight. But I can't be seen in public with any of you guys." I thought privately that this was too dangerous.

Pony considered my proposition, then nodded. "I'll get the whole gang to come tonight." He decided. "They miss you. We all do." He said softly, and then stood up and left, leaving me feeling bad.

I would hurt them if I was near then, and I would hurt them if I wasn't.

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><p>That night I arrived at the Curtis' and was immediately hugged to death by Soda and Two-Bit. Steve ruffled my hair, disrupting a bandage on my head and Dally simply walked over to me, as if standing sentry at my chair.<p>

I was quiet as usual when the gang laughed and wrestled. I wish I didn't have all of these casts so I could actually move. It was hard to try to blend in with the shadows when you're in a huge ass wheelchair.

Dally was also quiet, and I tried not to notice him staring at me. As Darry called us in for dinner, I caught him looking at me, and snapped.

"What?" I asked tiredly.

"Nothing."

"No what is it."

"You look like shit." Dally finally said bluntly.

"You really know how to treat a girl." I said in a high southern drawl, something I'd imagine Scarlet O'Hara from Gone With the Wind would sound like.

Two-Bit chuckled, and I noted that some of the gang was listening in on my conversation.

"I'm serious. You need to stay somewhere. Let someone take care of you for once." I laughed humorlessly.

"For once. I've been taken care of my entire life."

"You're only 15. You should be taken care of."

"You aren't" I countered.

"I'm different." I snorted.

"Oh yes. We are _so _different." I think he understood my sarcasm. We were practically the same person, both hardened by gang activity, only I was better at hiding. Dally thought the way to forget the past was to become hard, but I knew it was to just change. Change your identity and forget who you were. Bury them, but not in a way that makes people curious about your past. No one would ever care about 'little Johnny's' past.

"We are. For one, I am fine."

"I'm fine, too." I said automatically. Dally snorted disbelievingly.

"Yeah, you're in a wheelchair, all of your friends are in danger, you have no place to live, you probably aren't even eating regularly, and you're going insane. But you're just _fine_."

"You-" I lunged at him, forgetting about my casts for a split second. I took him by surprise and we both tumbled down to the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

**Please review! I really appreciate all you guys do for me:) Thank you so much.**

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><p>Dally didn't fight me, and I mostly just scrambled around, attempting to upright myself. I finally succeeded and I sat up, grinning.<p>

Dally stared at me incredulously, rubbing his shoulder.

"What the hell Johnny?" He asked. I laughed, and it felt nice to laugh.

"I did it." I whispered, and everyone looked a me like I was insane. Maybe I was. Maybe Dally was right. I grabbed the edge of the couch and after a couple tries and a lot of pain that I ignored, I got to my knees and then to my feet, putting most of my weight on my arms that supported me.

I grinned even wider. I could do this. I could walk again and do everything I had done before. I was _not _gonna be an invalid, no matter what the doctors said was and was not possible.

"Johnny!" Dally finally broke the silence. I turned my head with difficulty, still smiling. He didn't look excited, more angry. I didn't really understand why. I was _standing_. "What the hell?!"

He rushed over to me and attempted to support my weight, but I pushed him off. I couldn't have pushed that hard, but he was taken aback. "Johnny," He said more calmly. "You shouldn't be able to do this. You must be feeling a ton of pain right now." Dally directed his words towards Darry. "Should we take him to the hospital?"

"No!" I shouted. "Calm down, this is a good thing! I can stand. I'm fine. I'll go sit down again if it makes you happy." I rolled my eyes and tried to shuffle forward.

I fell immediately, and the ground rushed up. I wouldn't have been able to catch myself so it's a good thing Dally caught me before I reached the ground. "Thanks." I said gruffly as I was put back in my chair. I sighed sadly, wanting nothing more than to just be ok again.

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><p>That night the Curtis' insisted that I stay with them. I slept on the couch because I refused to let Darry carry me up to Pony's old room.<p>

Dally also stayed over, sleeping on the floor next to couch protectively. I drifted off immediately.

I woke up at maybe midnight again, gasping. I could tell I was in more pain then usual. I tried to go back to sleep and succeeded for maybe an hour, until I woke again, this time the pain was completely unbearable.

"Dal." I whimpered. He woke immediately.

"Johnny." I think I was crying, but quietly because I didn't want to wake the Curtis brothers. "Johnny, what's wrong?" Dally sounded terrified.

I screamed, muffled by a pillow.

"I'm getting Darry."

"No!" I said loudly. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and tried to distance myself from the pain. I tried to recall what Kurt had said about how the pain was all in my head. Just my head telling me I needed help, but I _didn't _because I was tougher than that and I didn't need help.

Dally hesitated, wondering if he should wake Darry. I spoke calmer this time, swallowing the shake in my voice. "I'm fine. Don't get Darry. I'm ok."

"Don't lie to me, kid." Dally said gruffly. He seemed to accept that I wasn't going to the hospital, which I was glad about.

"I'm not lying. I'll be ok."

"What hurts?" Dally said, his hands hovering over one of my many casts as though he could magically make it better.

"My brain."

"Is your concussion acting up again? Brain damage is nothing to laugh at."

"No." It was calming to explain it out loud. "The pain is just in my head. It's not actually anything. The pain is like an alarm telling people theres something wrong, but sometimes there isn't anything wrong and its just your brain tricking you. I just ignore it like an alarm clock, incorporate it into my dream and don't wake up and as long as I'm asleep it's ok."

"That's dumb. There's probably something wrong if you're in pain." Dally tried to sound as if he didn't care, but I heard the edge in his voice.

"No. Because if the injury is too severe, I wont survive it, and if its not severe enough I will survive. Simple as that."

"You really don't care if you live or not, do you?" Dally sounded sad.

I chose my words carefully. "I wish you didn't care. I know you probably wish that too, because I ain't gonna live too long, and I accepted that the second I joined a gang. I was doomed from the start, but you and the gang didn't know that because I lied to you."

"You ain't doomed. You're gonna be fine."

I wish he wouldn't say that, but I didn't tell him. I should have told him.

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><p>The next six months were pretty much hell. I got crutches around the 3 month mark, although my doctor advised that I still mainly used the chair. I didn't listen, of course.<p>

My minor casts began to come off, like the tendentious in my finger and one of my arm casts. Unfortunately, only my left arm so I was still handicapped.

It was amazingly cold outside, so I mostly just sulked inside the Curtis brothers' house, feeling like a free-loader and an invalid. Dally stayed with me many days, and when he couldn't, Two-Bit would keep me company. I must have either been acting more "Johnny" like or else the gang was just getting used to my new persona, as I no longer felt like a stranger in their house. I felt like I belonged more than ever before.

By the end of six months, I only had 2 casts left (One of my femur and the other around my spine-the doctor had tried to explain why I needed it, but I just didn't understand.)

I was a "medical miracle" and allowed the press to cover my healing story (although I left out how I got hurt.) I allowed this as a message to the Gunners. A message that I was back.

I was back, angry and I didn't owe them anything.

And I wasn't gonna let them hurt anyone I love ever again.


End file.
